


table number nine

by KnifingGale



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: 1980s Diner, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colorblind Soulmate AU, F/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Bell, Peaches - Freeform, Post-Canon, Romantic Soulmates, courting, peach pie, post-solovetsky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifingGale/pseuds/KnifingGale
Summary: In which after the events of Solovetsky, an amnesiac Bell works at a roadside diner and meets a certain someone during the midnight hours of her shift. All Bell knows is that the patron at table number nine sure did love peach pie.
Relationships: Bell/Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	table number nine

“Gangster?” Anne mused out loud, peering cautiously out at the lone customer at table number nine, “Maybe Bratva…” 

“Have you seen those arms?” Nicole, one of your fellow new waitresses, shot back, “ _Boxer_.” 

As you set the coffee pot on the counter, their eyes shot to you. 

“Bell,” they both said at the same time, smiling sweetly at you. You paused, pushing the headset of your Walkman down to your neck. The sound of Fleetwood Mac’s _The Chain_ still could be heard faintly from your Walkman. 

“Yes?” You asked, already having finished the task of cleaning the floors. 

“Could you handle table nine? We’re awfully busy with the…” Nicole trailed off, her eyes wandering over to the kitchen, “...dishes! The dishwasher got fired last night.” 

You nodded confusedly. You had just helped John with the dishes earlier this morning. Although, you left before the busy morning and lunch hours at the diner. 

Straightening them of your black buttoned dress, you looked over to table number nine, the table at the very back of the diner. 

As it so happened, the lamp hanging over the table flickered and dimmed every so often. 

_Probably the storm_ , you thought briefly. Heavy raindrops fell against the glass windows in the hail of rainfall and wind outside. The streetlights outside flickered, occasionally bathing the parking lot in darkness every so often. 

You walked down the row of booths and reached the end.

Table number nine. 

You found yourself looking at a large man in a hooded jacket, the hood just covering his head. His gloved hands rested on the table, a familiar impatient gesture among customers. Clear raindrops still clung to the dark fabric of his jacket. 

He likely was a weary motorist taking a break from the poor stormy conditions of the interstate road. 

“Can I take your order, sir?” you asked. His head turned to you before he looked up. You blinked. You found yourself staring into a lone cerulean eye and one scarred milky eye. 

“Yes-” he said in a thickly accented voice before he suddenly froze. Eastern European, perhaps? That was different from the usual customer stopping by the roadside diner. 

Noticing the heavyweight of his stare on you, you smiled sheepishly at him. He must have seen the apparent bruise on your face from walking into that street sign yet again. The bruising on your face already gained enough stares from the customers earlier in the morning. 

“Have you heard of our legendary peach pie here, sir?” you asked cheerily instead. Maybelle’s Diner really did have the world’s finest peach pie. 

You couldn’t quite remember having any other kind of pie aside from that one time at the hospital... But it was still the finest by your own experience and the testimony of others. 

His lone dark eye stared at you as if calculating something. 

“ _ты моя душа_ ,” he said suddenly, his gaze softening ever so slightly. He finally broke away from the stare, “ _Da_ , I will have peaches.”

You felt an inkling of curiosity at what he said in that language of his. Maybe, he really was concerned about that bruise on your eye. But you focused on the English part of his words instead. 

“Peach pie, it is then!” you answered with a smile. Already about to turn away, you froze. You almost forgot!

“Would you, uh, like some coffee with that?” you once again asked sheepishly. 

He nodded. 

* * *

Curiously, you glanced over to table number nine. You had just gotten done taking a break after giving the customer there his coffee and peach pie, which he had accepted with a nod and another string of foreign words. 

The table was empty. 

Looking around, you saw Anne and Nicole still at the other end of the diner chatting away on the stools. You walked over to the table only to see the payment for the meal already on the table. 

You stared down at the dollar bill resting on the white paper napkin. Noticing the dark scribblings on the napkin, you brought it closer curiously. Maybe that was the customer’s own way of leaving his review on the diner's service and peach pie. 

Perhaps, Anne would know. 

She was in college, having taken the summer to work at the diner with her grandmother, the Maybelle's Diner namesake. She knew quite a few languages ranging from Latvian to Russian. 

You walked over to Anne and Nicole, still perched on the dark grey stools of the diner with coffee mugs of their own in hand. 

“Table number nine left this note,” you said, handing the note to Anne, who took it with wary curiosity, “Could you translate it?”

Her eyes scanned over the dark penned scribblings on the white paper napkin for several moments before glancing away suddenly. Her eyes widened and her face paled, “I-I can’t read this. It’s in uh, Ukrainian!” 

Oh.

You looked down a bit with some disappointment. But that couldn’t be helped. For all you knew, the customer could have just written all of that down out of boredom. 

“...But I can read several words,” Anne said hesitantly before adding, “Peaches...pie...soul.”

You tilted your head. Peach pie was soul food? Maybe that’s what he was trying to say on the napkin. Before you could guess that out loud, Nicole suddenly spoke up with her gaze fixed at the money still in your hand. 

“Bell,” Nicole said slowly, “What’s that in your hand?”

“Payment from the customer,” you replied. You hadn’t checked what the dollar bill was yet. But it probably was five dollars-

“Why is it a hundred dollars?”

...Wait, what?

You turned over the dollar bill only to see Benjamin Franklin’s face on it. 

_One hundred dollars_ , you thought. 

_Huh_. 

He must have _really_ liked the peach pie. 

You must have voiced your thoughts out loud for Anne shook her head and sighed.

“Bell, he already went up to us and paid for the pie and coffee. That,” she gestured to the hundred dollar bill in your hand, “...is the tip for you.” 

You blinked. 

There must have been some mistake. Maybe, he left the hundred dollar bill accidentally.

 _Or_ , you guessed.

Maybe he really did love your recommendation of the peach pie that much. 

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. This still was really too much, “Maybe we should split it up among us-”

“No!” Anne blurted out, shooting a warning look at Nicole, “You, uh, deserve it, Bell.”

Nicole gave a confused look but nodded nonetheless, “Getting picked up by a serial killer once already makes you due for good karma.” 

“But I stabbed him?” you asked confusedly. Granted, you weren’t quite sure how you made a pencil into a lethal weapon in the closed confines of the car. Still, wouldn’t that put you off of good karma?

“Exactly,” Anne murmured before shaking her head to herself with a sigh, “Just...just enjoy it.” 

You just nodded, leaning against the counter as you sat idly on the red stool. Your gaze soon wandered to table number nine. 

He really reminded you of the patron usually at table number five. 

That customer _loved_ the burgers at Maybelle’s Diner since he gave you all those relatively large tips you've tried to refuse. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, y’all! I decided to write out this chapter since the idea of a Diner AU is just so appealing to me and I have some fun ideas for Stitch/Bell in this AU that are softer than what I’ve written for them in this past. I also decided to write this chapter out of the inspiration I got from seeing the fanart @mortal-kombattore-115 on tumblr drew out for my other Stitch/Bell fic involving peaches. So special shout-out to them! That really made my week and gave me some inspiration to write this chapter, yet another peach-related Stitch/Bell content...
> 
> Anyways, indeed this is a Soulmate AU (a Colorblind one although there is a twist that’ll be explained soon). Bell is just oblivious along with something else. And to give some context, this takes place post-Solovetsky where Bell is spared although she is amnesiac and does have some lingering effects from getting shot in the head. 
> 
> This wasn’t beta-read this time...so I hope this didn’t turn out too bad. This also sounded way better in my head than it actually turned out. I probably should have made it longer but I wanted to write something low-stress and short that I could update occasionally this week. There's no grandiose plot for this one, just a nice and simple post-canon soulmate diner AU haha. Thanks for reading!


End file.
